Name game

Everybody gets a nickname in Bobland

It's a funny thing that I do to describe people. As with all good nicks, it normally describes an attribute or a personality trait. Sometimes it even hits on a true given nick that a person has online (yes, I'm a gay.com slut...sue me)

From time to time, it gets me in trouble, because issuing a nickname to everybody essentially removes their true name from the game. How bad is it when you can only remember "Lilly guy" instead of his real name? That's why cellie phones come in handy--to remind us of people's true identities, rather than "fuckbuddy"

Yes, fuckbuddy. He's an old one, from around the time of Lilly Guy and Bad Breath. I thought sex with fuckbuddy was amazing, until I stumbled on Good Sex guy who definitely clogged me up pretty good down there ;-)

Enough. Work calls.

Free Marfa!

Sometimes, no, oft times, American Jurisprudence eludes me. I wish someone would take the thirty seconds to explain what Martha Stewart did that was so heinous, so destructive that she should be removed from public sight.

My theory is this: It's Leona Helmsley all over again.

Leona was admittedly a really 'ballsy broad.' I really admired that about her, though. I grew up with her ads for such mythical places as the Helmsley Harley Hotel, and seeing the "Queen of Mean" expounding about her hatred of shoddy hotel experiences. The classic, which haunts me to this day, and has on more than one occasion labeled me a snob is "I wouldn't drink form plastic. Why should you?" There was a photograph with a picture of Mrs Harry's quaffed head slightly askew holding a polished glass tumbler.

Leona, Martha--they are probably cut from the same cloth, although Martha is probably a 300 count cotton and Leona a nice silk damask. Admittedly, they have probably been unkind to a person or two along the line, but really people...Who hasn't? We've all lashed out at a person or two along the way, but notoriety drives wronged people to the National Enquirer and the like. Famous people get Lifetime - Television for women (and gay men) specials. In short, the entire world knows efficiently and quickly that Martha (Mizzz Stewart to you!) once dared to criticize a staffer for opening bottles of expensive wine needlessly.

So, what is the sin? Wanting things to be right? Okay, with Leona there was that tax evasion thing but all in all, she was a woman with vision and the means to achieve it. She falls in the same category as the Oprah Winfreys of the world, though probably not as nice in the grand scheme. That's ok. Success often breeds arrogance, and the two make wonderful bedfellows.

Once again, I ask--what is this turrible thing that she's done? My contention is she has been shafted by American society that desires so to vilify the successful woman. It's not right.

Slippery Dolphin Thighs!

Fuckin A!

(and other popular straightboy phrases)

I've been back listening to Elvis Costello. He gives me joy in an odd way. Some of his tunes are uplifting in a sardonic way:

"The sun struggles up, another beautiful day
And I feel glad in my own suspicious way!
Despite the contradicttion and confusion
Feel tragic without reason
There's malice and there's magic in every season."

It's really a good descriptive for how I'm feeling at present. I have noticed that I do scowl a bit more than usual, which is very bad (face lines.) Why? *shrug*

There is probably a really good reason, but I personally don't care what it is. I'm just content to roll along happily and occasionally scowl at people and things that are worrisome.

In a humourous essay, Steve Martin wrote "Nobody wants to hire somebody that is crying." That's incredibly true. Don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with crying. I feel a good cry cleanses the soul and allows happiness to shine that more brightly through the window of the metaphysical heart (if that makes any sense.) Everybody needs to clean their windows from time to time, so a cry is in order.

That said, bust out the Kleenex and Steel Magnolias! Best bawl-fest ever put on film, in my op. I don't need to go into any further detail, because every fag in North America not only knows of this movie, but can recite entire sections of dialogue.

Oddly enough, that's all I want to say right now. Laundry beckons, and I may attempt to find a cute boy to swap spit with. That's really what I need. Ciao, all

Postal

I am finally seeing why I
was the one worth leaving.

D.C. sleeps alone tonight.

I've always loved that song. Most of the Postal Service tunes are pretty cheery and uplifting in their own way.

Sarcasm is but one of the services we offer.

Y'know, when I embarked on this whole blog thing, I had these visions of daily posting like I once did. Alas, I lack the patience and discipline to do such things at this point in my life. I'm not being hard on myself. I realize that at various times in one's life, things are more difficult than they are at other times. This is one of those times when I'm through with men, and the solitude of being single is especially attractive.

Society seems to disagree with me, though, and I seem to be surrounded with people that feel that everyone who has the capability of maintaining sanity in a relationship should be in a partnership. I think it's all fueled by the gay wedding concept. Perhaps it's always been there, but it seems more prevalent now for some reason. I am atypical, I guess. I'm of the opinion that the whole gay wedding thing is just faggotry.

Perhaps it's because I'm doubting my own ability to be monogamous. Like the Noel Coward tune says, "Why should I?" The more I go through life, the more attractive serial monogamy seems. I can think of nothing more to say on that particular subject *shrug*

It's odd-I'm back to where I was in 1999, at least in mind-set. That was the moment that I first really started believing my own PR. Things happened in my life, and for a moment, the negatives were overwhelmed by positives. When my esteem is up, my life is golden, and it seems that I can accomplish anything. I'm in one of those strangely optimistic points in my life again, and all sorts of things are swirling about in my mind.

I'm tempted to duck out of Indianapolis and go elsewhere. I've got talents and skills that should suit me wherever I would want to be. Of course, I do have an odd attraction to this town, it's people, and the small cadre of friends I've acquired here. I also do have a certain loyalty to my work, though I can't entirely sort that out myself. I probably shouldn't, but I do. At the risk of sounding conceited, boys that are not ugly and are also mentally stable and able to carry on a conversation are really a rarity here. I feel like a big fish in a small bowl sometimes. I've met cute boys (and some boys that were formerly cute, but that's a different story) and I've met smart boys, but rarely do the two meet. I know these fellows are out there, but in the mean time, I keep hanging with these not so pretty ones who talk and cute ones who are truly vapid but I want to fuck.

The District sleeps alone tonight. The District rather enjoys it ;-)